In Which Lauren Makes a Deal With the Devil
by firewings86
Summary: The Morrigan pays a surprise visit to Lauren in the middle of the night with unclear motives, vague propositions, and an appetite for misconduct. Morridoc. :P
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This probably sucks and I am way too sleep-deprived to tell hahahaha, I might try to fix it later or something. Also it probably gets shittier as it goes along due to increasing tiredness + delirium BUT HEY IT'S MORRIDOC WOOOOOOO**

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It's statistically nearly impossible that the Morrigan would show up outside Lauren's door at one in the morning. Knocking jolts her from her sleep and she runs the likely scenarios through her head as she wraps herself in a bath robe, flicks on a lamp and heads for the front of the apartment: Kenzi or Dyson is delivering news of some kind of emergency, Bo misses her and wants to talk—or "talk"—or maybe Bo is injured (or has another injured fae in tow) and needs her help. Whatever it is, it probably isn't good, not at this time of night. She ties the robe off and unlocks the door, throws it open in a rush.

_Nearly_ impossible. Lauren blinks. She rubs her eyes and blinks again. A svelte, shadowy form leans against her door frame, one hand on her hip, a bottle of champagne in the other.

"Evony?" Lauren's voice is laced with sleep and confusion.

"In bed already? Who are you, my grandmother? I just thought I'd stop by and help you break in the new place." She holds up the bottle of champagne and smirks. She's always smirking. Lauren isn't sure what to think of it, that devious crease at the corner of her mouth, her pursed lips.

"But I've already been here for almost a week." Change of address forms completed and turned in, everything unpacked and organized, the works.

"So?" The Morrigan shoulders in, sidles past Lauren and does a lap around the living room. "I'm a little late. So sue me. Damn, I did hook you up, didn't I?"

Lauren, stifling a chuckle, crosses her arms and glances at the floor. "Yeah, it is nice. That's for sure."

The Morrigan leans in close and whispers, "You're welcome." She winds a lock of Lauren's hair around her finger and Lauren's breath catches in her throat. This game of cat and mouse is a little more difficult to navigate when she isn't fully awake and alert, and the Morrigan notices. "Relax, sweetheart." She scoffs, squinting at Lauren like she's some kind of freak. "I don't bite. Well, not all the time." The champagne falls into Lauren's hands and the Morrigan is off again and seating herself on the couch.

She traces the seams in the leather with a perfectly manicured nail and turns to look back at Lauren. Her face is still an enigmatic smirk. What does she really want? Lauren wasn't lying—she doesn't trust her and isn't going to. She'll be friendly with her as long as she has to though, if she's honest with herself, Evony actually hasn't made it too hard so far.

"Have you been to the research labs yet?"

"Yeah, uh… yeah. I went yesterday. I can't say I approve of all of your, um, methods, but it certainly was… interesting."

"I hope the staff were helpful?"

"Yes, everyone was very pleasant." Oddly so. Lauren had never expected any of the dark fae to be "_nice_._"_ As much as she hates being wrong, she is certainly objective enough to recognize it when it happens, and she can admit it. She was a little hasty on the judgment front. Only a little, but she does have to give it to the dark—in some aspects, they aren't very different from the average light fae at all.

"I'm glad to hear their hostessing skills are better than yours, anyway." She winks. The Morrigan winking still makes Lauren a touch uncomfortable deep in her gut, but she does her best to squelch those feelings for the sake of harmony.

"Gee, thanks." She half-laughs.

"Oh, I'm just teasing. Lighten up, Lauren, come on. Come sit! I didn't bring that champagne for you to stand there and hold it."

She opens her mouth to say something about how she really should get back to bed, but something—peer pressure, maybe—stops her, and she sighs and shakes her head, an involuntary smile tugging at her lips as she walks to get a pair of champagne glasses out of the kitchen cabinets.

The floor is cold on her bare feet. She tucks them under herself when she sits on the couch next to the Morrigan. She offers her guest a glass and works the cork out, gently, without letting it make too much noise. They eye each other and drink. It's poker face against poker face.

"I have a proposition for you," the Morrigan says, finally. Lauren knew it. She wouldn't just come here for such a trivial reason unless she were buttering her up for something. Admittedly, her company can be enjoyable, but there are definitely still ulterior motives lurking underneath all the good-natured teasing and playful sarcasm.

Lauren twists the side of her mouth and bites her lip, not even really wanting to ask: "What is it?"

"It's nothing serious. Don't sound like that, geez, so doom and gloom."

"Forgive me if I'm a little hesitant to go making deals with the Morrigan."

The Morrigan reaches over and grabs her wrist. She stares dumbly at the hand, not knowing how else to react. "Hey, it's _Evony_, remember?"

"Oh, I remember." _Oops_. She hadn't meant for that to come out quite so snarky or suggestive, but she's quite sure that neither of them has forgotten the particularly interesting conclusion to their last meeting. "I'm sorry," she corrects herself. "Evony."

"Anyway," Evony continues, putting on an air of haughty indifference, "I, being somewhat _chic_, have never seen an episode of Star Trek. I will let you make me watch it, but you'll owe me a favor." She grins, leans back on the couch. She's wearing some tight little black number, heels, skin tight jeans. She pulls a knee up and hooks her hands around it and Lauren glances down at her thighs.

"I can't say I'm too keen on the idea of owing you a favor, either," she says, looking back up to her face.

"You don't even know what kind of favor it is yet." Evony edges closer and stretches across her to place her empty champagne glass on the end table next to Lauren's side of the couch. She brushes conspicuously against Lauren as she straightens back up. Her perfume lingers and Lauren is immediately uncomfortable again. She licks her now-dry lips, knowing full well that licking actually does nothing to moisturize them and can even contribute to continuing dryness, but it's reflex. Evony grins, evidently pleased with herself. She reaches up and brushes a stray hair out of Lauren's face. "You might like it."

Her fingers are like silk. A killer's hands shouldn't be so soft. Lauren finds herself tilting her face into the touch, her jaw in Evony's palm. Evony trails her fingertips down Lauren's cheekbone and across her lips, coy and casual. She smiles slightly and bites her own lip—Lauren remembers that look well, that artful "come hither."

Those lips are full, pushed out and tempting, but she won't let herself give in. She looks down and away.

"Lauren." Evony drops her voice, tilting Lauren's jaw to make her look back into those inscrutable brown eyes. "I know you want to."

Lauren doesn't have to ask "to what?" She pushes her fingers through Evony's hair and pulls her face to her own and kisses her for the second time. It's longer this time, maybe because Evony was expecting it. She shifts to straddle Lauren's lap, allows her to push her mouth open and kiss her hard and deep. All Lauren can hear are her little breaths, the rustle of fabric on fabric as Evony rocks her hips against the front of the bath robe.

The damned bath robe. Lauren unties it, or tries to; her hands shake from the adrenaline. Evony reaches down to help her. She throws the robe open and bites her shoulder, her collarbone—_she's a liar; she does bite_—only for Lauren to flip her around, push her hard against the couch and retaliate. She catches Evony's lip in her teeth and tugs on it, then dives back in for another long kiss. Evony makes a noise between a moan and a whimper and arches her back. Lauren pushes on her shoulders, keeps her down. She shoves her knee between those dark fae legs and gets a gasp in return.

"Look at me," she says, squeezing hard on the area where Evony's neck meets her delicate shoulder. She kisses her again and says again, stronger, "Look at me," feeling empowered by their current state of positioning. Evony opens her eyes and looks up at her.

"Yes, Dr. Lewis?"

"I'm not making any deals with you, and I won't play favors," she says against Evony's jaw as she rakes her fingernails down her chest.

Evony pushes and slides out from under her, shoves her all the way down into a reclining position. She's strong for being so small—most fae are, Lauren guesses—and the sudden role reversal incites brief panic before she leans down and whispers in Lauren's ear, her fingers playing on the hem of her nightgown, "I think you already are."

Lauren freezes at the feeling on Evony's hand on her bare thigh. _What is she doing_? She runs her fingertips over the skin, dangerously high, for a few moments—_Am I ready for this? I don't think I'm ready for _this—before pulling her hand out from under the gown's skirt. Lauren sinks into the leather and tries to catch her breath, her skin still tingling where Evony's fingers had been. She isn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. Evony withdraws, crosses her legs like a lady, and waits. Relieved. Relieved, yes.

When Lauren sits up and looks at Evony, she can't help but laugh: her thick brown curls are a tangled mess due to all of the writhing around on the couch. "Your hair looks ridiculous."

"Ugh, I'm sure." Evony reaches up to smooth her hair back down and Lauren takes the opportunity to clear her throat and take the champagne glasses to the kitchen. The clacking of heels on tile follows her. She has just placed the glasses neatly next to the sink when a pair of hands sneak around her shoulders.

She turns around to kiss the Morrigan, gently, with her hand just resting on her neck—not unlike their first kiss.

"You know I definitely don't trust you now, right?" she says after the kiss trails off.

"As we've established, you're a smart woman. I wouldn't expect any less."

Lauren squints at her, studies her. Her face is blank, walled as ever. "Well," Lauren says, mulling her over, "I'd better get back to bed."

"You're not even gonna invite a girl in?" Evony grins and starts toward the door.

"Maybe someday when I'm more convinced that you won't try to kill me in my sleep," Lauren teases.

"Hey." Evony's brow furrows and Lauren almost regrets the joke. "I mean it when I say I want you to feel comfortable, you know. We protect our own. You don't have to worry about that kind of shit anymore."

"I know, I know. Bad joke. Sorry." Lauren smiles awkwardly at the floor, not wanting to meet the fae's gaze.

"It's been fun as usual," Evony says from the doorway. Lauren waves as she leaves, then shuts the door and slumps back against it. She stands there for a few long minutes, processing and categorizing everything that just transpired.

_Fun. It was fun, wasn't it?_

She flops into her bed and lies there twisting her own hair around her fingers, staring at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to reclaim her. Despite all of the weirdness, for the first time in a long time, maybe she _can_ afford to feel somewhat comfortable. Protected. Equal. Free. Like someone who belongs. Maybe working for the dark fae won't be so bad after all. And maybe Evony really can be _just_ Evony sometimes. That doesn't mean she trusts her, of course, but maybe she'll work on cutting her a little slack. Maybe… the night is full of maybes, of possibilities, of mischief.

And of dreams.


	2. Chapter 2

Lauren jolts awake at the sound of her phone vibrating on her wooden nightstand. She snatches it up just in time for the call to go to voicemail. _Damn it_. It's almost eleven in the morning; no wonder someone has already called her—she looks at her missed calls—three times. Normally she would never let herself sleep in this late, but she was up until early in the morning in the research and testing labs trying to get a genome mapped out. There's a fae whose ability is to basically slow or even shut off bodily functioning, even down to a cellular level. If they can isolate the gene that manipulates this ability, the possibilities could be endless. They could maybe even, say, cure cancer. She could hardly sleep from the excitement, but waking up now is even more difficult as a result.

The number that's been calling her phone isn't blocked, so she hits redial and waits. Someone answers after one ring.

"Dr. Lewis?"

"Yes, hello. I've got several missed calls from this number. Who is this?"

"Good morning, Dr. Lewis. I am Nurse Gillesby with the dark's emergency medical services. Your presence is requested immediately for input and observation on a rather strange case."

"Okay, um…" She pushes her hair back out of her face and kicks the covers off. Well, this is a quick and stressful start to her morning, but at the same time, science and saving lives? Better than coffee. "I'll be there as soon as I can. To whom should I report?"

"The front desk, please. They'll direct you from there."

"Okay. I'll hurry." She hangs up the phone and runs to throw her clothes on.

Lauren makes it to the medical ward in record time. She's out of breath and sweaty by the time she gets to the front desk, but who cares when lives hang in the balance? "Dr. Lewis, present," she says between shallow, rapid breaths and straightens her lab coat.

"Just in time," a plump, pleasant-looking woman behind the desk says as she stands and extends her hand. "I'm Hillary. I've been waiting for you. I'll take you to the patient; they just took her to ICU."

Lauren follows Hillary down a bright hallway to the elevators. A few floors up, they follow another corridor to intensive care. Hillary walks quickly, her heels tapping with purpose hard on the tile floor. They turn into a small, freezing cold room and duck around a curtain shielding a hospital bed from the hall lights. A dim lamp is set up in the far corner of the room, but otherwise it's somewhat dark.

"This is the patient," Hillary says, motioning to the girl lying in the bed. Her skin gives off a faint red glow, and her breaths are shallow and labored. She appears to be asleep, but uncomfortably so; she is feverish and sweating, and she whimpers and moves around every so often, trying to get comfortable in her sleep.

"What do we know about what we're dealing with?"

"She's a mora, named for the goddess Morana, a very rare type of ice nymph. They thrive in winter and hibernate deep underground all summer where it's cool. Their bodies sustain themselves on the energy from the previous winter's feeds. They are at their best in the cold, and too much heat can easily kill one. We don't know too much else about them."

"So what's her story? Where did she come from?"

"She was found outside, above ground, asleep. As I'm sure you've noticed, it's summer. She was dangerously near death, but The Morrigan had her rushed here immediately and we've been keeping her as cool as possible." Lauren tries not to tense up or get distracted at the mention of Evony. Secretly she wonders if Evony _had anything_ _to do with_ this situation, though she knows that's unfair of her. Knowing something is unfair doesn't necessarily mean one can stop oneself from thinking it.

"Any improvement?" she asks, doing her best to focus on the task at hand.

"Negligible. For some reason, it seems this one didn't feed enough through last winter to have an easy hibernation even underground. Above ground, it would have been impossible for her to survive the summer. But… she was already so weak by the time we got her here. She hasn't fed in months, obviously."

"I wonder how she got above ground," Lauren murmurs, more to herself than Hillary. She frowns and shakes her head, perplexed, then asks, "What do her kind feed on? Would there be any way to tube it in or get it in an IV?"

Hillary looks down at the floor. _Oh, no_. That isn't a good sign at all. "We don't exactly know," she admits. Another fae of the same genus feeds off the energy generated by the cyclic death of nature as winter takes over, but there's no way to move her to a location with an appropriate climate this time of year; she wouldn't survive the trip. The other problem is that we can't wake her up to ask her. Even if we could, I don't think she would even survive being awake for very long. Here's her file." Hillary hands Lauren a clipboard with her logs and species profile.

"I'll get the researchers on it. We'll try to find anything that might help, okay?"

Hillary smiles, a broad, warm smile, and hugs her with one arm. "Thank you, Dr. Lewis."

Lauren leaves the center shaken by how nearly-identical it is to the light's. This is almost the exact experience she'd had over and over with injured light fae and their staff. She has always liked to think that she is somewhat neutral, but she's realizing only now just how good the light fae can be at subtle brainwashing where bias against the dark is concerned. Even if their leaders _are_ corrupt and evil, most of the dark fae she's met so far are just… fae.

When darkness falls, the majority of the researchers return to their homes for the day. Lauren stays in the lab well into the night. A researcher and a med student stay to help as well. They scour records, archives, lore, anything that might have information on mora and their feeding patterns, but success is limited. Mentions are few and far between, much less actual information. After checking yet another encyclopedia and finding, yet again, nothing but a brief description under "mora," Lauren drops her head into her hands and goans.

"Rough night, Dr. Lewis?" a voice calls from the doorway. Lauren snaps to attention. _Evony_. Speaking of evil and corruption.

"Yeah," she says, clearing her throat. "We haven't been able to find much information on mora feeding patterns at all. Not much of anything that's helpful."

"Figures." Evony saunters closer to Lauren's desk, a corner of her mouth twisting into a sort of uncomfortable half-frown. "I've only met a handful myself. They aren't the most talkative, either, if you know what I mean."

"I'm not sure I do," Lauren says, fixing her with a tired stare.

"I mean they didn't tell me jack shit about themselves, sweetheart. They don't really go spreading the useful info around. That secrecy helps keep them protected, but it's got its consequences." She smiles and rolls her eyes. "Obviously."

A flash of disgust surges in Lauren—she grabs it and tries as hard as she can to hold on to it. Research is the important thing right now. Evony is neither useful nor empathetic or even sympathetic. Get back to researching.

"It isn't funny," Lauren says, "and I don't have time to talk right now if you're just going to make light of the situation."

Evony throws her hands up. "All right, all right, I'm _sorry_, miss Mary-Sue Morals. It's not like I don't want the girl to get better. I just think the mora did this to themselves a little."

Lauren glances at pair still in the room helping her, unsure of how she feels about them hearing all of this back-and-forth between herself and the Morrigan. It probably doesn't look normal or right, and she just wants to work and focus on her medicine and her research with minimal drama. She hopes they won't tell anyone about this little visit.

Evony apparently notices her gaze darting back and forth between her desk and her partners, because after a pause of a few moments, she turns to them and says, "Leave us. Your shifts are over. Go get some sleep or whatever you people do after hours." Lauren whips around to first stare incredulously at her, mouth agape, and then full-on scowl. Did she seriously just dismiss her only help? The man and the young woman scamper out of the labs, their laptops in tow.

"Oh, what?" Evony scoffs. "Quit looking at me like that. They have lives too, you know, and no one is going to get anything done past a certain level of sleep deprivation. You should know; you are a real doctor, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am," Lauren says tersely, not wanting to admit that Evony is right—but just this once, of course.

"Look," Evony says, drawing nearer still and slipping around behind Lauren's desk with her hands behind her back, "you will have plenty of time to research more tomorrow."

"She could die before tomorrow!"

"Do you really think you're going to stumble across some miracle passage"—she taps on one of the useless encyclopedias lying open on the desk—"that's going to cure her before then?"

"I might."

"Also, you're running up the electric bill with all these lights on."

Lauren loses her words. All she can do is stare. "You're horrible," she manages to get out. "I don't mean that in like a 'Ha ha, you're horrible' way. You're actually horrible."

"Aww." Evony clucks her tongue and pushes Lauren's chair back from her desk. "Am I all that bad?" Lauren opens her mouth to protest as the Morrigan situates herself over the chair and sits, straddling her legs and facing her, uncomfortably close. She leans down to hook her arms behind Lauren's neck and whispers, inches from her mouth and looking her straight in the eye, "And here I thought we were starting to understand each other." She smells like jasmine and honey. Her curls are perfect, swept and tied to one side. Her lips are parted ever so slightly, waiting. She may be evil or she may not, but either way, she is—in a shallow way, in any case—awfully hard to resist.

"I will never understand you," Lauren says, her conviction wavering. Evony leans in another inch, just close enough so that the surface of her lips barely, just barely, touch the doctor's.

"Never say never."

Lauren grabs her and pulls her in to kiss her, hard, one hand between her shoulder blades and the other on the back of her head. Evony's fingers are warm on her cheeks as she returns the kiss, eager and willing, mouth open. She curls her tongue up against Lauren's, bites her lip and starts the kissing all over again.

"Evony," Lauren whispers, digging her fingernails into that thick brown hair. Evony grins against her lips.

"Yes?"

"Why do you keep finding me and trying to seduce me like this? I started all of… this." _Probably not for the reasons you thought, but nonetheless, I did._ "I thought I was supposed to be the one making the moves."

"Well," Evony says, trailing butterfly kisses across her bottom lip, "I saw a good idea and I ran with it. Don't worry; I give credit where credit is due." She presses her open mouth against Lauren's again, but lightly, teasing, and then pulls back at the last second, leaving Lauren reaching for her. "You could work on being patient." She smirks and leans back in close, holding her lips just millimeters from Lauren's. She breathes softly and a smile plays on her mouth as she ducks back from another attempted kiss. Lauren makes a face and she grins. "You are too easy."

"Shut up."

"Look at you, all badass and mouthy now! You just told the Morrigan to shut up. Do you know how many people have done that and lived?"

"If I'm believing in your recent personality overhaul," Lauren says, "I'd guess more people than you let on."

"Who ever said anything was recent? You just don't want to admit you don't know me as well as you think you do."

"And you know me so much better?"

Evony presses her forehead against Lauren's and shrugs. "I know you're tired of getting taken for granted. I know they treated you like cats playing with a mouse in a cage." Lauren cringes at both the memory and the unfortunately accurate description of the light fae. "And I know that you, darling, are no mouse. I think you're probably smarter—and braver—than anyone gives you credit for."

The flattery catches Lauren off-guard. She has to pause and compose herself for a moment, remind herself that Evony has been toying with her this entire time, and this is doubtless just another move on the playing field. "Such a glowing review for a mere human."

Some discomfort skitters over Evony's face. Has Lauren found a crack in the mask, a flaw in the plan? Can she talk her way out of this one?

"I can't deny that I don't hold them in particularly high regards in general. But sometimes… just occasionally… you find one worth having around." She smirks again, the mask restored. "That's why we hired you, _doctor_ Lewis." Now she grins, looking pleased with herself and her selections and judgments and probably her general ruling ability.

"Ah, I see. Thank you for explaining that to me, _your highness_."

They both break down into giggling and kissing. Lauren remembers vividly the first time she heard Evony _giggle_. It was on the couch in her old apartment. She'd been joking around with Star Trek impressions. Lauren was deeply in love with Bo, but her interests always felt sidelined. Everything she was captivated by seemed to get the "That's nice, honey," pat-on-the-head treatment, whereas Evony actually engages her, even if she does think Star Trek is the dorkiest thing in the world. It's dangerous, that engagement, given that it fosters seeds of trust where she _knows_ she should not let any grow. Stay on good terms, she chides herself, but don't get attached. It's not real.

But it feels pretty real when Evony collapses against her and kisses her neck and plays with her hair. She never, ever imagined that the Morrigan could seem so sweet and harmless—delicate, even. It doesn't seem possible, but then every time Lauren closes her eyes and opens them expecting to wake up from some crazy dream, she just sees Evony, still there, still gorgeous, still smiling.

"Maybe you're right about the sleep thing," Lauren says, shifting in her chair under Evony's weight. "Maybe I should go to bed for a little while and just come back really early in the morning."

"There, see? Compromise, just like I said."

Lauren grins and rolls her eyes. "Good night, Evony. I can't leave until you get off."

"Is that so?" Evony smirks, her hand on Lauren's throat. She leans in to kiss her, a devious sparkle still alive and well in her eyes.

"Not like _that_. Come on, you know what I mean. Let me up. Please."

"The magic word," Evony says sarcastically, but she does hop off of Lauren's lap and out of her chair.

"Thanks."

Lauren gathers her things and pats her pocket to make sure her keys are still there. She and Evony leave the room together and make sure all of the lights are turned off on their way out.

"Good luck with your research tomorrow," Evony says at the door of the building. Lauren sighs.

"Thanks. I get the feeling I'll need it."

She hasn't had a more frustrating lab day in a long time. The lack of information is disheartening, but maybe someone else—someone older—might know something. Someone like Trick.

Lauren's version of counting sheep is drafting tomorrow's tentative schedule in her head. Research, go to the Dal(?), see Trick(?), visit patient, check and record vitals, return to research lab… see Evony?

Does she want to see Evony? No, no. Optional. That part is optional. She finally falls asleep mulling her research over. Tomorrow will be a new day—hopefully a better one, where work is concerned. With any luck, the mora will pull through and she'll be able to sleep another night without thinking too much about the blood on her hands.

No one ever said being Dr. Lewis was easy.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Guest review people! I can't reply to you to tell you if I'm working or not unless you have an account, lol! I've had multiple update requests on this thing and was wanting to get around to it anyway, so. Here we are. :P  
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To think Lauren thought _yesterday_ was frustrating! This day could not possibly have been worse. This is insane. Lauren has never been met with a species of fae that anyone she asks has ever known less about. Even Trick couldn't tell her anything useful about their feeding patterns, only that he'd seen them from a distance and spoken to a small handful in his long life.

All she wants at this point is to down an entire bottle of wine by herself and forget this crippling failure of a case. She's already halfway there. The burgundy nectar sloshes as she twirls the bottle and lifts it to her lips for another long gulp.

Her supply cabinet looms across the room. It catches her eye through the green-tinted glass of the wine bottle and she sighs. Her DNA sample from Evony is behind those doors. She'd wanted to be well on her way to creating a bio-bomb, but at this rate, she won't even need it. The way Evony is constantly showing up and getting so close to her, she could just keep a syringe in her pocket and—

The doorbell rings. Now, who could _that_ possibly be? Lauren gets up and walks—haltingly, but still mostly in a straight line—to let her late-night visitor in.

"Speak of the Devil," she says, her words slurring into each other.

Evony cocks an eyebrow at her.

"Nothing. Was just"—Lauren bites back a giggle at the absurdity of what she's about to say—"thinking about you is all." That sounded much more romantic than she meant it, but she can't exactly tell the truth.

The smirk on Evony's face is definitely a pleased one. "Were you, now?" She slips in and pulls the door closed behind herself. She's wearing a slinky little black dress. Of course she is.

"This again, huh?" Lauren takes another long pull from the wine bottle. "What is this time?" she mumbles around the rim, her teeth clinking against the glass. Evony snorts.

"Are you _drunk_?"

"Well," Lauren says, pulling a chair out from her dining room table and flopping into it, "I was working on getting there. _Alone_." She shoots her a pointed look. While she would normally welcome some company of the feminine persuasion, Evony is, well, evil, and she grates on her nerves. A stressful end to an already-stressful day is all she would bring to the table. This is what she's going to keep telling herself, anyway.

Evony feigns hurt. "I'm so sorry," she says, her hand insincerely over her heart. "I didn't mean to interrupt your little one-woman party, but I come bearing information, you see."

Lauren eyes her and drinks. "What kind of information?"

"I had my people talk to some other people who talked to some other people," she says, flippant, and with mischief shining in her eyes. "We have a lead on someone who knows about mora feeding."

Lauren is instantly on her feet again, nearly dropping the wine bottle in her haste. "What? Who?"

"Hm." The Morrigan plucks the wine from Lauren's hands and takes a long drink, herself, before setting it down on the table. She licks her lips and Lauren feels a warmth surge deep inside of herself—shut up, body, this is important, shut up, _shut up_—but pushes it away. She has to focus on the patient. "You seem pretty eager to know," Evony muses.

"Well, yes, of course." Is she going to dance around the actual information, make Lauren play her for it? She would. Lauren would give anything for a straight answer. She hates this teasing, these games. "Please, Evony, just tell me."

"You know nothing in life is free, darling."

Lauren groans. She saw this coming. "What do you want?" she asks, defeated. Evony slinks closer, lets her hands wander to Lauren's hips and kisses her jaw. Lauren's first reflex is to flinch away, but the contact of Evony's lips on her skin lulls her back in. She closes her eyes and exhales.

"Just let me spend the night," Evony murmurs in her ear and grins. Lauren tenses up.

"What?"

"Oh, come on. Would it kill you to have a little fun—I hear you and the succubitch split a good little while ago, hm?—and especially in exchange for a tip that could save your patient's life?"

"Don't call her that," Lauren says softly, trying unsuccessfully to mask the hurt in her voice.

"It's a pretty good deal for you is all I'm saying." Evony takes a step back and throws her hands up with a sigh. "But, if you don't want to know…"

Lauren fixes her with a hard stare, exasperated. She wishes to all the gods of all mythologies that Evony could make this easy for her. "You realize it's incredibly immoral to withhold lifesaving information over not getting laid, right?" Evony just laughs.

"Honey, first off…morals. Overrated. You should know that by now. And secondly, when did I say anything about getting laid? All I said"—she takes a step forward and rests her hand on Lauren's chest, taps her collarbone—"was 'spend the night.' I'll tell you before you leave for the hospital in the morning. Sound fair?"

This is utterly insane. Lauren cannot believe she's agreeing to this. Sooner or later, this weird relationship is going to get her into trouble somehow and she knows it. A new home, free lab access, a great job, no ownership, no strings attached, _plus_ "benefits"—it's too good to be true. She doesn't want to trust it. No, she _doesn't_ trust it.

She tells herself she doesn't have a choice as she says, "Fine." Grudgingly.

"Good." Evony snatches the wine bottle off the table and shoves it back into Lauren's hands. "Now drink up, princess. You look like you could use it."

Lauren drinks. And drinks. Then Evony drinks the rest, and then they do shots. Shots? Lauren can't remember when the last time she did shots was—she rarely even touches the vodka she keeps in the apartment—but she's making up for lost time now. Evony snickers at the way her face twists up after each one. Lauren laughs and pushes her.

"Shut up," she says. "We can't all be desensitized alcoholics."

Evony winds an arm around Lauren's neck—"Is that what I am?"—and kisses her.

"Yeah," Lauren says, swaying in Evony's grip. Suddenly she's back in the labs, letting her in again, unable to resist her again. Somewhere deep down she hates it, but she can't find that hatred now, try though she might. "Your _beer_ is twenty-five percent alcohol. I do not even wanna know what else you keep up there. In your dark, spooky palace of doom."

"The compound is definitely a spooky palace of doom," Evony says, only mildly sarcastic. "And you haven't even seen my room."

Lauren grins and narrows her eyes, giving her a steely, seductive look. As best as she can in her drunkenness, anyway. "Will I? Is that what happens next, you have me spend the night in your room and rob me of my virtue there?"

Evony pulls back, looking a little surprised. "You have virtue left to rob?" Lauren can't help but laugh. "Speaking of which," Evony adds, "it's getting late. I guess it's about time for you to make me up a bed on the couch, huh?" Lauren studies her. She looks cocky, mischievous. She's just waiting for Lauren to disagree. Well, she'll just have to be disappointed.

"Yeah," Lauren says. "Sounds good."

"Wha—?" Now Evony looks _really_ surprised. That's the best laugh Lauren's had in a while. She struggles to regain her composure, still chuckling as Evony scowls.

"Fine, fine. I guess you can sleep with me. Just this once! We can't make a habit of this. People are going to start talking." Lauren gets up and stumbles to the bed with one of Evony's arms wrapped around her waist. The Morrigan gets dragged along as she goes and discards her shot glass onto an end table on her way. They collapse on top of the covers in a heap.

"What are they going to say?" Evony asks, still looking up to no good. She crawls up to rest her chin on Lauren's chest, unceremoniously shoving her knee between her legs. Lauren gasps. "That Dr. Lewis has a hot new something on the side?"

"Something like that," Lauren says as she reaches down and works her hand underneath the Morrigan's dress. Two can play this game.

"Why, Dr. Lewis…" There's a dangerous glint in her eyes. "What was that you said earlier about no—"

Lauren, emboldened, cuts her off. "I'm allowed to change my mind, aren't I?" Her fingers find a lacy thong and tug it down off one hip, then the other. Evony doesn't respond, just throws her head back and sucks in a deep, unsteady breath as Lauren works up her thighs. Lauren smirks. She loves this power, seeing Evony so vulnerable, making her make these faces—mouth open, eyebrows scrunching together.

She pushes a finger against her clit and rubs it once, long and slow. Evony whimpers and it's like crack. Lauren can't think of anything she wouldn't give to hear the Morrigan, queen of shadows, leader of the dark, whimper so desperately over and over and over…

One finger in and Evony's breaths quicken. A shudder wracks her body. One is all she gets, Lauren decides smugly, and just for that moment. She retracts her hand as quickly as she'd given it. Murder flares in Evony's eyes. She's so ready, so eager, just dripping wet. It's perfect.

"What—" Evony starts, but Lauren stops her again.

"Now who needs to learn patience?"

Her aura is storm clouds and fire. "You—" she hisses, but Lauren ignores her, falls back against her pillows with her head swimming. She feels like she's on a merry-go-round. She holds up her hand, wet to her knuckles with Evony's arousal, and looks her in the eyes. She slides her finger into her mouth, with Evony still watching, closes her lips around it and slowly pulls it back out, licking it clean without a word. Just a little pre-show. She can't wait to see what look _this_ puts on that perfect face.

Evony launches herself onto her, grabs her wrists and pins them down and attacks her with her mouth. She kisses her hard and takes her breath away. She pulls on Lauren's lips, sinks her teeth into her neck, hell, sinks her teeth into her shoulder and then her chest and then the other shoulder for good measure. Lauren rakes her fingernails down Evony's back and then realizes just how hampering that little black dress is.

"Clothes," she whispers, and Evony nods and starts pulling the thing over her head without even bothering to unzip it first. How does she even manage to do that? It's fascinating how she twists her body, ribs sliding visibly under her skin, and wriggles out of it. Her breasts fall free and her curls bounce, tangled, around her face. Lauren grabs the back of her neck and pulls her back down to part her lips with her tongue.

Everything flashes by in a blur: Evony's breath against her neck, Evony's fingers working on the zipper of her pants, Evony's voice deep and thick in her ear. The details are there, but they're unclear and out of order. The next thing she knows, they're both naked and Evony is on top of her, grinding against her, still hot and wet and oh, she can't stand it anymore. She grabs her by the small of her back and pulls her up so she can push two fingers in and work them in and out to match the pace of Evony's breathing.

She could listen to Evony breathe all night. Faster and faster, more desperate, punctuated with whimpers and moans—it's music to Lauren's ears. When Evony claws at her hand, asking for something but too vaguely and animalistically for Lauren to know what, Lauren reaches up and pulls her face down again, but this time to whisper in her ear, her voice soft,

"Tell me you want this."

Evony mumbles something and swears under her breath. Lauren can barely hear. She pulls out of her to curl her fingers against her clit, hard and fast. "What was that?"

"No," Evony says, louder, and moans.

Lauren doesn't stop anyway, not until Evony is sweating and trembling from head to toe and crying out, her pleas so raspy and broken that Lauren can hardly deny them. She isn't a monster.

She's beginning to sober up by the time Evony rolls onto her side, lies quiet for a moment, and then reaches between Lauren's legs to run her fingertips up and down the slick folds there. The lucid thoughts come to her slowly, one at a time: Evony's breasts pushed together inches from her face, the moonlight on her hair, the rhythmic, experienced way her hands work.

It's…shockingly gentle. Evony eases into everything lightly, kisses down her stomach before working her tongue against her clit in an equally slow and methodical fashion. When Lauren comes it's silent, her mouth open chest tight as she claws at her pillow, the blankets, the headboard, Evony's hair. Evony never breaks pace, never responds. The orgasm lasts and just seems to keep lasting until Lauren finally pushes her off, hard. She curls up and lies there panting, feeling stark and exposed all of a sudden. Her nipples are stiff from the cool air and she pulls the covers up over her chest.

Evony collapses next to her, her breaths still coming hard and uneven. Lauren cups her cheek and she grins. She should be pleased with herself. It was amazing, not that Lauren will ever say so.

Evony snuggles closer and looks deep into her eyes. It's almost uncomfortable. Lauren feels so open and vulnerable right now, like Evony is staring straight into her and feeling her way around and learning everything—seeing her heart, her soul, assuming souls exist. Lauren has her doubts.

Evony pulls Lauren's hand to her mouth and kisses her palm. Maybe she shouldn't be—maybe she really is seeing a new side of this beautiful, dangerous woman—but Lauren is shocked again at the tenderness. Softness is something she's not accustomed to seeing from Evony, and tonight it's come in spades.

"Evony," she says softly, and Evony kisses her in response, slowly, deeply, passionately. Lauren falls asleep tangled in her arms.

And sleeps deeply.

And wakes up alone.

She jerks upright, clutching the blankets to her chest. A moment of panic seizes her at the rumpled empty space in the bed next to her.

"Evony?"

Her gaze darts around. The kitchen light is still on, but Evony is nowhere to be found. The apartment is silent and untouched.

Except her medical supply cabinet. The door hangs ajar, accusatory, sickening and still.

Lauren's stomach drops. She throws a sheet around herself and, holding it tight, bolts across the room. She throws the door the rest of the way open.

The petri dish with Evony's DNA sample is gone. In its place is a simple handwritten note, scrawled on a ripped half-sheet of paper:

_Security cameras, darling. _

_XOXO Evony_


End file.
